A Love He Once Had
by Danbamina
Summary: Bad @ sums, theres a better one inside. Voldemort was once a boy, and boys have hormones. Girls are pretty. What would happen if Voldy liked a girl when he was boy and met up with her again later in life? T for safety. R
1. Iris

**Author's Log: Danbamina here! I haven't written ANY fan fiction in about two years (been trying my hand at original stuff), but I had this idea one day and I had to try it out. So I'll summarize it here (because it's a long summary).**

**Summary: Voldemort was once a boy named Tom Riddle, while Tom Riddle was himself in the future in many ways (A/N: Which I hope I captured), he must have had _some_ human feelings. After all, he _was_ a teenager at one point. So what if there had been this _one_ girl at Hogwarts that he found attractive (A/N: Sorry if she's obnoxious to anyone I'll explain her at the end)? What if they had some sort of relationship, however odd it would've been? Then, when Voldy/Tom goes off to conquer the world, they lose touch and are on different sides, but she doesn't know he's actually Voldemort (due to the whole "selective hearing" thing that Fudge possesses)? Then she gets captured by him and they are forced to confront each other again? What would happen then? **

**That's what I wanted to write. It may read like a cheesy romance novel at points, but I'll tone that down as much as I can. I also wanted to dive into Voldemort's and Tom Riddle's minds. J.K. doesn't really give me much to work with, so I hope I do Voldy justice. I enjoy writing this, and I will continue to post it as often as I can. However, I am in college (yes, and I still write/read fan fiction) so finding time to write recreationally is difficult.**

**A Note About the Setting: This is set BEFORE the Ministry has fallen and Voldy and his crew are still trying to infiltrate it as much as possible. **

**Harry will only be mentioned in passing (unless he actually shows up). So please, don't expect Harry to come riding up on a white horse to save the day. It's not happening. Plus, I don't think Harry _could_ ride a horse, unless it was a centaur, but that's a different idea. And without further adieu, I give you...**

**THE DISCLAIMER! I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters/settings. I simply own the general idea of this (Voldy in love) and my OC (who is obvious).**

**ENJOY!**

Chapter One

She was perfect, the new transfer student. Tom Riddle only considered himself perfect, so that was saying something. Tall, thin, voluptuous, with confident blue eyes and hair the color of liquid gold, Iris Clarke was the envy of all the fifth year boys. No one knew what school she'd transferred from, and she never said. She had an intellect to match her beauty, and the talent to go along with it. Proud and stubborn she'd ignored all of the advances of the boys, she was training to be an Auror and she wasn't letting any _boy_ get in her way. Unreachable, that's what she was. Maybe that's why he wanted her so bad. Tom couldn't wrap his head around it.

She seemed perfect, but she wasn't. She was demanding (Tom thought of her as controlling) and a law unto herself. She loved to show off and was constantly picking duels with the upper classmen. Iris usually had a detention to go to, and so she was rarely in the Slytherin common room beneath the lake at any reasonable hour. Tom stayed up late at night, studying (or pretending to anyway) just to be around her. She never paid him any mind. She'd just go to the opposite end of the room, plop herself behind a table, spread her books out and start her homework. She never paid anyone any attention at all.

So it was shock to see her come walking up to him that day beside the lake. Tom glanced around to be sure that she was heading his way. She most definitely was as he was the only on that particular stretch of shore. He quickly buried his nose back in the book he'd abandoned when he'd notice her start walking around the lake, the sun flashing in her liquid gold hair as it swung gently from side to side with her brisk movements.

"Tom? Tom Riddle?" She asked when she was within earshot of him; her voice was soft as velvet and sweet as honey. Tom couldn't recall hearing her speak that way. She normally had a commanding, powerful voice, feminine but firm. This softer tone was new and off-putting.

He didn't know what to do, so he simply nodded to let her know that he was who she thought he was.

She sighed and plopped down next to him. "Oh good, I've been looking for you everywhere!" She breathed out as she pulled her bag into her lap and began to go through it. "I was wondering if you'd help me with my Defense against the Dark Arts essay. I'm having trouble on it, and you're the best in the class."

Tom nodded mutely and took her unfinished essay from her outstretched hand. He looked it over, it was far too short, and a good foot and a half was left on the parchment. He looked over the content next, it was well written and went over everything it had to, but it was too brief, he found himself confused. He handed it back to her and shook his head, chuckling.

"What's so funny? It took me forever to write this!" Iris said indignantly as she snatched the essay back from Tom and scanned it over. "I mean, yeah, it's shorter than it's supposed to be, but that's not that big of a deal. I'll just say I heard the measurements wrong and get to re-do it."

Tom stopped chuckling long enough to take it back from her. He pointed at one of the paragraphs and laughed again. "This paragraph isn't even about the Unforgivable curses. It's about the Jellylegs Jinx."

"So? I felt my paper needed some comic relief. The Unforgivables are so depressing." Iris sighed and plunked her chin in her hand. "And I don't see the point of them anyway."

Tom quirked an eyebrow at her, he loved learning about the Unforgivable curses, they were so interesting, and promised to be useful. "Don't see a point to them?"

Iris shook her head and looked over at him. "No. If you can't get people to do what you want they give you the option of doing three things…" Iris began to count the options off on her fingers, " a) making them do it through mind control, which is pathetic, b) torturing them until they're in so much pain that they'll do anything you want them to simply to get away from the pain, which is even _more_ pathetic, or c) killing them, which accomplishes nothing." She looked over at Tom and shook her head. "They're for cowards who aren't ambitious or creative enough to figure out another way of manipulation."

Tom had never thought of them as cowardly before. He looked over her paper more carefully; she was arguing those points in it. He gave it back to her. "Your problem with this is that you've made it into an argument about how cowardly they are. It's not supposed to be that. It's just supposed to be a paper on them and their effects on the Wizarding community throughout the centuries. You'll get a T for sure if you turn that in."

Iris stared blankly at him for a few seconds. "Naw shit, Sherlock." She said bluntly and snatched her paper from him. "That's why I came to get your help. If you don't want to help me simply say so and I'll get my butt to the library." She shoved her paper in her bag and stood up slinging it over her shoulder and storming away before Tom could even make a sound to the contrary.

Voldemort rolled over in his bed, Nagini slid from her place on top of his headboard to coil on the pillow where his head had been previously. The warm hollow probably felt nice to the snake. Voldemort rubbed his eyes as he sat up and yawned, stretching his muscles. His slit nostrils flared as he took a deep steadying breath. Iris Clarke? He hadn't thought about her in a decade at least, and here he was dreaming about her. He let out the breath through his mouth and rubbed his temples with long spidery fingers. Nagini slid into his lap. He reached one hand down and absent-mindedly stroked his beloved pet's thick head. She hissed at him. He looked down at her and shook his head, in no mood to converse with her. She hissed again and slithered off to find Wormtail, her breakfast was waiting, and she enjoyed waking Wormtail unusually early whenever she got the chance.

Momentarily distracted by the morning exploits of his pet, Voldemort stood and stretched more fully. His pale torso gleamed in the pre-dawn light as he slid into his clothes. Today he donned a white shirt, black vest, scarlet tie, and his usual black pants, black shoes and black robes. He carefully tucked his phoenix feather wand into its hidden pocket on the inside of his robes, and deemed himself ready for the day. Then his dream came back to him with stark reality.

Iris had been so close that day on the lake shore, so beautiful and full of life. He'd never met another woman like her. He didn't expect to, and he didn't want to. His only childhood crush was a secret that he guarded very carefully. They had remained pen pals for a year or so after school, until Voldemort had become too wrapped up in his plans of world domination to care about an old crush. He viewed those few years as a weakness of character and didn't desire to repeat them. After all, he was so close to his goal, and he had Bellatrix for anything out of the ordinary that he longed for. A more willing slave he could not find. No, Bellatrix would do, though she wasn't Iris….

Voldemort shook himself and took out his wand. He shattered several of the Malfoys' priceless vases for the hell of it and felt more like himself. He was just tucking his wand back into his inside pocket when Rookwood entered the room, without knocking. He hissed and turned sharply around, drawing his wand and looming over the inferior wizard.

"Rookwood, _what_ did I tell you about barging into my room without knocking first?" Voldemort said coldly, moving closer to the now-cowering Rookwood. When Rookwood was not forthcoming with an answer Voldemort sighed and flicked his wand at the scared man, who immediately crumpled up in pain. "I'll refresh your memory, shall I?" Voldemort relinquished his spell and bent at the waist the come closer to Rookwood's ear and hissed in a deadly chill voice. "I told you I would make you wish you had knocked, didn't I?" Rookwood nodded and gulped. "Why was that?" He waited for a moment and then barked, "Answer me!"

Rookwood jumped backwards slightly and raised his eyes to Voldemort's before answering. "Because, my Lord could be doing something…" Rookwood glanced down at Voldemort's waist nervously and quickly finished, "Private."

"Now, tell me something else Rookwood, why is that so important?" Voldemort grimaced, having noticed the shifting of Rookwood's attentions to his nether regions. He could've knocked; Bella was just doing him a favor after all. It meant nothing to him, but to her, well, it only served to make her more faithful to his cause.

"Because, my Lord, if anyone found out, they might get jealous and unruly…. I'm sorry my Lord!" Rookwood blurted out, flinging his arms around Voldemort's knees. "Please! Be merciful! I've brought you good news!"

His interest slightly piqued Voldemort removed himself from Rookwood's grasp and began to pace. "Tell me, and we'll see if you deserve my mercy."

Rookwood launched into a tale about how the Death Eaters had found a female Auror of great strength nosing around the mansion that morning and how they apprehended her. Being as strong as she was she was bound to possess information that could be quite useful to their cause. However, she was not easily persuaded and so they had decided to involve him in the matter. Voldemort sighed and seated himself behind the desk in the room, splaying his right hand on the green velvet top while his left hand massaged his forehead.

"My Lord?" Rookwood asked timidly, stepping closer to Voldemort.

Voldemort looked up from underneath his fingers, his scarlet eyes flashing in the dim light filtering through the closed charcoal gray curtains. "_What?" _He snapped.

"Do you wish to see the prisoner now, or later?" Rookwood wrung his hands in anxiety, flinching whenever Voldemort's right hand moved the slightest bit. Voldemort leaned back in his leather wing back chair and placed the tips of his fingers together, looking over the tops of them at Rookwood. If he had had eyebrows one would have been raised slightly as he contemplated the Death Eater before him.

At great length Voldemort sighed and stood, reaching into his robes for his wand. "Tell me where she is and then get out of my way. I don't wish to see you again for quite some time, Rookwood." He pulled his wand from his robes as he headed for the door listening to Rookwood's hasty explanation of where the prisoner was being kept. She was being held in the usual spot, the basement. He opened his door and was on his way out when he stopped and added. "And Rookwood?"

"Yes, my Lord?" Rookwood squeaked out. God, if there was one, how Voldemort hated that sign of weakness in his chosen Death Eaters.

"Next time you enter my rooms without knocking. I won't let you off so easily. Be thankful for my mercy and get out of my sight." Voldemort slammed his door and descended quickly to the guarded basement. Shrieks of agony could be heard from below. He rolled his eyes as he brushed past the now-bowing Death Eaters that guarded the staircase leading to the basement, his own minions couldn't be more inventive in torture techniques than the Cruciatus Curse, they had lounged too long in the comfort of seeming peace. He reached the door and burst in to find a woman curled into the fetal position on the ground writhing and shrieking in pain as Bellatrix Lestrange stood above her, a manic grim on her once beautiful features. He cleared his throat; Bellatrix whirled around, releasing the prisoner from the grip of the curse abruptly. Her look of surprise melted swiftly into a smile.

"Now, did Rookwood really have to go and get you? I can take care of this, my Lord. You needn't worry about it." Bellatrix said coming close to him, but not so close as to touch him without his permission.

Voldemort looked down at her and smirked. "Well, since I'm already here, Bellatrix…." He let it trail off as he twirled his wand in between his index finger and thumb of his right hand.

Bellatrix looked bewildered for a moment before her face split into a wide vicious grin, she bowed and left with a "As you wish, my Lord. I'll see to it that you're not disturbed."

Voldemort waited until he heard the door close and lock before rounding on his captive with a mental cry of _Imperio!_ The power of the course flowed through him and into her. He made her stand up. When she stood she was facing away from him. He examined her back. She was wearing Muggle clothes; they fit her slim form nicely… not that he cared, having only ever found one woman attractive…. He brushed the budding thought aside, he was not himself today. She had long wavy blonde hair that hung down her back past her shoulder blades and had dirt from the floor streaked through it, it shone dimly in the light from the single ball of magical light that hung in the center of the ceiling. Bored with this woman's back he instructed her to turn around and face him. She did so, and he stepped back as familiar blue eyes glared at him defiantly. He removed the curse, but the woman did not fall down again, as he had anticipated, instead she stumbled forward and into his chest, her hands grasping his face as she examined his features carefully.

"Oh my God." She breathed out as her fingers danced lightly across his cheeks and nose. "So they weren't joking when they said it was you." She whispered as her hands dropped to his shoulders and rested there. Voldemort, too shocked to move, stood there in silence. Without warning he felt her head fall against his chest and her arms went around his neck. She shook against him, crying in silence. "Oh Tom." She paused as she was wracked by another round of silent sobs. "What have you done to yourself?" She lamented quietly, her voice thick with sadness.

Voldemort's hands acted of their own accord and stroked her hair. "Iris." He whispered, disbelief flooding his senses.

**Author's Log: Well, that took two months to write. Hope you liked it! Review please! Suggestions on Iris are welcome! Though they may not be implemented due to later plot points.**

**Iris HAD to be STUNNING in appearance to even catch Tom's eye (I mean, he believes that he's the best thing EVER), I'm trying to balance her looks out with her personality. I hope she develops well, but if you have suggestions on how to make her LESS obnoxious let me know. Or if you DON'T think she's obnoxious, let me know! I want help with this. So I'm open. Just be nice about it**

**Ok, so that's that. Um, I'll update as soon as I can (for those of you interested), but be patient please. I am in college and I'm currently putting off a paper to write this right now. Sooo yeah. Thank you for any reviews I get! And thanks for just reading! **

**All the Love**

**-Danbamina**


	2. Ow

**Author's Log: Hello everyone! This is a revision of my other chapter 2, I've added a few things. Not much, just some more descriptions to beef it up a little bit. It's pretty much the same, but I suggest you review it because, you never know what I added. I haven't looked at my revisions in awhile (having been super busy with college) so I don't even really remember what I wrote. I figured since that happened I would just go on and post it. I hope you enjoy the revisions (even if they are minimal and incomplete)! I'm going to start working on Chapter 3 soon. I promise! In the meantime, however, enjoy this! **

**~Danbamina**

**PS: This is just a filler chapter that really has no reason behind it other than to introduce the genreal idea behind what Voldy is doing. :) **

Chapter 2

They stood for a few moments in silence, before Voldemort came back to his senses. He growled inwardly at his reaction to her and shoved her roughly from himself. She stumbled and fell on the floor, landing with a solid _thump_ on her rear end. She let out a short 'oomph!' of surprise as she hit the ground and sat there for a brief moment in silence.

"What the hell was that for!" Iris barked up at him, her fists clenching at her sides. He glared at her, tapping his fingers on his wand as he contemplated what to do next. "Well…?" she drug out the question, indicating that she did, in fact, expect an answer from him.

Voldemort remained silent, glaring at her as he ran through countless possible ways of getting her to hand over the information he desired. He could attempt to get her to tell him via Imperius Curse, or Cruciatus, but those were so medieval, she'd never submit under those methods. He could also try any number of smaller, irksome curses, like the Bat Bogey Hex or a Tickling Charm, however, she'd think it was pathetic and would not submit to those either. He could always trick her into believing that he'd changed his evil ways to good, which wouldn't work at all, after all those years of attempting world domination, she'd never believe that. He thought back on their history together. She'd always been willing to tell him anything he desired when they'd had their little relationship, if it could be called that. Always blathering on and on about the most menial things, like her favorite color, which had then turned out to be highly useful. He smiled inwardly, yes, that was an idea. It could work… if he hadn't become so notoriously wicked and cold-hearted over the years. She most likely knew about that.

At length he sighed and shook his head; there was only one thing for it. He'd have to trick her into believing that he still had a heart to care for her with. He reached down a hand to help her up with. She batted it away, obviously still angry at him for her rough treatment. Voldemort growled and lowered himself to one knee before her and grabbed her chin as she looked away from his searching, scarlet gaze, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

"Iris, don't be like that. You know I never liked to be touched." He said with a forced, but convincingly gentle smile.

Instead of replying, Iris simply raised her fist and landed a punch on his face. Voldemort reeled backwards, clutching his now-aching cheek.

_Damn! She hits hard!_ Voldemort thought as he rubbed the bruised area roughly, as if he were trying to rub the pain out of it.

"_That's_ for pushing me down." She said with a wicked gleam in her eye as she got swiftly to her feet and advanced on him. She moved far more quickly than he had anticipated and Voldemort received another punch in the face as payment for his misjudgment. "And _that's _for dropping me like a hot potato and not even bothering to give me any reasons." She threw another punch, but Voldemort blocked it simply by raising his arm, he wasn't about to fight an unarmed witch when he was trying to trick her into believing he still cared about her. Iris's eyes hardened and the next thing Voldemort knew was that he was curled in the fetal position on the ground with tears gathering in his eyes as the most excruciating pain he'd ever felt in his life radiated throughout his groin. "That… _That's _for breaking my heart!" She gave him another swift kick in the back and retreated as far as she could from him.

Slowly, as the pain ebbed from his aching groin, Voldemort sat up, wincing with every move. Iris stood in her corner, smirking at him. He shot an evil look at her, and was shocked to see the smirk twitch and fade slightly before returning to its previous state. He leaned against the wall and breathed deeply as he tried to focus on something other than the pain. Finding his task was impossible; he opened his eyes to find that Iris was stooping over him, her brow creased with worry.

When she realized a split second later that he'd opened his eyes, she jumped back and folded her arms across her chest, and said in a firm, powerful voice. "Oh grow a pair and take it like a man, Tom. It can't be as bad as all that." She tossed her dirt-streaked hair behind her shoulders and stood there for a moment. Voldemort didn't reply, he just sat there in silence, waiting for the pain to go away. She obviously was growing worried that she'd caused some terrible damage to him because she walked over to him and offered her hand. "Here, let me help you up." She said her voice softened slightly.

He glanced up at her, suspicious, and hesitantly took her out-stretched hand. She pulled him to his feet and stepped away, as if his skin had burned hers and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring daggers at him. Had he already alienated her to the point of no return with one simple action? Or was she still angry about the reasons behind his beating? Or perhaps it was the years and years of mayhem and destruction he'd caused? All were highly possible answers to her treatment of him. Voldemort shook his head in resignment. She was still confusing to him, even after all these years.

Voldemort cleared his throat awkwardly. "Iris." He said, upon getting no response from her, he continued about his speech. "I know you cannot possibly be happy in such a filthy place as this." He paused, waiting for her to agree with him. Stony silence permeated the room, so he continued on. "I wish to re-extend the hand of friendship to you in the form of allowing you to move to a clean room, and to have a bath and new clothes." He waited; surely this bribe would be enough for now.

Iris slowly unfolded her arms from across her chest and smoothed her wrinkled shirt. "I'll take you up on that one, Tommy." She said at length "But don't think I'm accepting this 'hand of friendship' that you offer. I just want a bath."

Voldemort grimaced inwardly. It was going to be hard work convincing her that he had a heart, and that it belonged to her. "Of course, that is understandable after the way my Death Eaters treated you." He hated himself for speaking and acting like this, but if it worked, then it would be worth it. He was certain she knew plenty of information about the ministry. How weak of him to bow to the simple whims of a woman. A bath and some new clothes were what she most desired right now, he knew enough of her to realize that. But where was he going to procure clothes inconspicuously? He'd have to let Bellatrix in on that part of the plan, tell her she was doing him a _great_ favor. Whatever it took for her to keep her mouth shut, he'd do it. This plan could not fail. He was putting his reputation on the line for this information. If it failed…. He shook himself of the thought. It would work.

"Hey, Tommy." Iris was waving her hand in front of his face to get his attention or make sure he was alive, or both. "You still in there?"

"Don't call me Tommy." Voldemort snapped. "My name is Voldemort."

Iris burst into laughter at the last remark. "Oh yes." She said, her voice mocking. "The Great Dark Lady Voldysnort!" She continued on, laughing harder as she advanced slowly towards and him. "All shall bow to her mighty power!" She fell to her knees and put her hands up in a pleading gesture. "Oh please don't hurt me Lady Voldysnort! I promise to be the best behaved prisoner ever!" She collapsed on her side, laughing at herself. She looked up at him, smiling wickedly. All pretext of fun was gone from her voice as she spoke again. "You look like you're about to hurt me, as if you would dare to, Tommy. Put a wand in my hand and then we'll see who the better wizard is."

Voldemort clenched his right hand tightly around his wand, while his left hand balled into a fist. She'd insulted him! Blatantly insulted him! How dare she! He had every _right_ to harm her! And there she was, lying on her side on the floor, staring up at his with hard blue eyes, daring him to make a move. He actually considered it; she had harmed him, hadn't she? Well, a little pay back never hurt anyone. Why not at least give her a swift kick in the gut? Yet, the more rational side of his mind held him back, reminding him that assaulting her would only harm his plan. Slowly, oh so slowly, he calmed down and relaxed his hold on his wand and his fist unclenched.

"Get up, and I'll show you to your new room." Voldemort forced out when he felt he could speak without yelling insults at her.

Iris sat up from the floor and eyed him suspiciously. "You weren't joking about the new room, and the bath?"

He shook his head. "No, Iris. I wasn't joking. It's the least I can do for you, while you're my… guest."

Iris chuckled at that. "Guest, prisoner… either way you get free food, right?" She forced a smile at her forced joke. She knew a cage when she saw one, even if it had gilded bars.

Voldemort turned and left the room without deigning to answer her rhetorical question. Plus, he didn't want to ruin her fantasies about "free food" by telling her that the only way she was going to be fed was by giving him the information he wanted. In the meantime, however, he was faced with a problem. What room could he put her in where she wouldn't be disturbed by any curious Death Eaters? And by "curious" he meant "Death Eaters who wanted to try their hand at acquiring information from the prisoner." He grimaced, all these years as Death Eaters and the best forceful interrogation method they could come up with was the Cruciatus Curse. What a pity. He suddenly realized that he didn't know whether or not Iris had actually been following him the whole time he'd been deliberating with himself. He glanced back over his shoulder to find her following him with two Death Eaters, whose names he forgot, flanking her. Well, Death Eaters were good for something after all.

"Where are you taking her, my Lord?" One Death Eater asked, seeing his backwards glance.

Voldemort looked back over his shoulder, and noted that the one that had spoken happened to be very tall. "I'm taking her to my rooms." He announced, surprising himself (and Iris, who looked appalled), "She is to be kept there until I find a more appropriate placement for her."

"But, my Lord, she is a prisoner." The other one stated. He sounded like he had a bee up his nose.

Voldemort turned a full one hundred and eighty degrees to face the pair of Death Eaters, his scarlet eyes flashing with anger at their unwilling obedience. "Do not question me!" He shouted at the one who had spoken last. "I know what I am doing!" The Death Eater shrunk backwards ever so slightly. Voldemort's hand acted of its own accord then, whipping out and slapping the man smartly across the face. "And do not cringe before your Lord! It is disgraceful and insulting!" He rounded on the tall Death Eater, "Do _you_ have anything to say to me?"

The tall one stood firmly in place and looked Voldemort coolly in the eyes. "No, my Lord, I do not have anything to say to you." He replied with a calm even voice.

Voldemort smirked and glared at the other Death Eater and pointed at the tall one. "_You_ should act more like him. He is worthy of being a Death Eater."

"Yes, because it's so hard to pledge your allegiance to a wizard who could kill you as easily as unwrapping a chocolate frog." Iris said sarcastically from her new-found place leaning casually against the wood-paneled wall. "Honestly, Tommy, just because you've got the biggest wand…." Iris trailed off, an amused smile playing across her lips as she chuckled at herself. Voldemort let out a curse in Parseltongue as he stomped towards her; he gripped her wrist tightly, and pulled her along behind him.

He reached his rooms quickly and wrenched the door open and threw her into the room. He followed her quickly and slammed the door behind himself. He stood in front of the door staring at her for a few moments while he reined his temper back under his control. Nagini hissed in the general direction of Iris from her place by the hearth where she'd been napping in the glow of the fire. Voldemort told her to shut up about her beauty sleep and to just get back to it instead of grumbling about it like an old lady. She hissed indignantly and slithered off somewhere. He didn't really care where she was going, he didn't really care that she was leaving. When he returned his attention to Iris, she had seated herself on his bed, and was looking expectantly at him.

"May I help you?" He asked feeling slightly awkward under her stare.

She smiled charmingly at him. "Yes. I would like my bath now, please."

Please? Why was she being polite all of a sudden? Voldemort decided not to trouble himself with it. Figuring out her actions would be tiresome and cause him a headache at the least. He sighed. "Fine. Come with me." He re-opened the door and waited for Iris to come stand by his side before wrapping one hand securely around her upper arm and escorting her to the bathroom down the hall. "Here it is. It's simple enough, so I'll let you figure it out. The towels are in that cupboard over there. Leave your clothes on the toilet seat, and I'll have new ones sent up to you." He pointed out everything as he spoke. He turned and left the room, giving her privacy, and locked the door behind him with a simple spell. Two promises fulfilled successfully, one to go.

**Author's Log: Hope y'all enjoyed it! Review please! I will get the next chappie up as soon as possible! Thanks!**

**~Danbamina**


	3. Bathrobes are Fluffy

**Author's Log: Well, it's been awhile, hasn't it, folks? Sorry bout the wait. I was really busy for a really long time. Then I didn't have any inspiration having all been spent on school assignments and what-not. Plus, I've got a social life to juggle as well as my academic life. I warned y'all that the updates would be few and far between. But I'll get it done eventually! Promise! Anyway, thanks to the reviewers (you know who you are) I appreciate it! And thanks to everyone who's following/favorited this story. I appreciate that too. And finally, thanks to those of you who are just reading for the heck of it. Thanks for you time! But without further adieu I give you chapter 3.**

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. I own Iris and the plot. The end.**

Chapter 3

Voldemort paced in his room. He was waiting for Bella to return with the clothing he'd sent her out for. And the woman was taking her time! He'd impressed the need for urgency upon her. It'd been five minutes! That's all it took to run into the robes store and snag a few random clothes from a rack. He continued pace around and around and around his room, growing worried that Bella simply was refusing to do what he asked and was therefore taking her sweet time about her errand. Ten minutes elapsed, and Nagini slithered into the room. Voldemort bent and picked up his pet, setting her around his neck and shoulders like a scarf. The snake felt nice against his skin, cool and smooth, soothing. He absent-mindedly stroked Nagini's back as she curled herself around his waist and started hissing at him about something or other. He wasn't really paying attention to her. She was like most other women in the fact that she really just wanted to talk and be listened to. However, when he received an extra tight squeeze around the ribs that made the air whoosh from his lungs he realized that she'd realized he hadn't been paying attention.

"Nagini!" Voldemort coughed out as he struggled to remain upright beneath the pain that was radiating from where Nagini was still tightening her hold on him. "Stop that!"

Nagini loosened her grip enough to make it comfortable to breathe, while still keeping him uncomfortable. "It's a shame, really, my Lord, that you can't even pay attention to the report I had to bring you." She hissed in his ear. If the snake was capable of smirking, Voldemort was sure she would be smirking her little face off.

"What report? You were babbling away about needing a bath." Voldemort asked, taking a deep breath and finding that its progress was stopped by his snake corset.

Nagini loosened her hold some more and replied. "Yes, I need a bath. However, I can't get one when there is a woman in the bathroom."

Voldemort chuckled and removed Nagini from his person. "That's never stopped you before."

"This time is different. The woman is stuck in the bathroom, yelling for someone to come and let her out. I can't get into a locked room." Nagini said coolly as she was dropped six inches to the floor. "The Death Eaters refuse to let her out."

Voldemort sighed and rubbed his temples. Why couldn't Iris just take a bubble bath and soak for an hour or more like a normal woman? _Oh. That's right._ He thought with a breath of amusement. _She's Iris. She's not a normal woman._ He looked at Nagini, curled up on the floor like a giant rug, and heaved a sigh. "I'll go let her out, my pet. Will that make you happy?"

Nagini raised her head from the center of her coil and seemed to mull the suggestion over for a few minutes. "If I get a bath…."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Of course you will, Nagini. I'll have Avery attend to you."

Nagini uncoiled herself and headed for the door, "Well, come on."

Voldemort trekked along in the wake of the big snake back to the bathroom, where he could hear Iris's voice repeatedly asking to be let out, and then trying to bargain with the Death Eaters that stood guard outside of it. He repressed a snicker at her futile actions. No Death Eater would betray him. The consequences were too great. The Death Eaters noticed him coming down the corridor shortly and moved to get out of his way. He smirked to himself, such loyal servants he had. As loyal as fear could make them, and since they were scared stiff of him, they were _very_ loyal. He waved them off as he removed his wand from the inside pocket of his robes and tapped the lock on the door. The door swung inwards obediently, and from the sound of it, smacked Iris squarely in the face.

"Hell's Bells! That bloody hurt you jackass!" Iris shrieked as the door finished opening.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow at the sight that greeted him. Iris was sprawled on the green and black marble floor in an oversized, white, plush bathrobe with one hand clamped to her forehead, glaring up at him. "Oh?" He struggled to keep the amusement out of his voice, because it was quite hilarious to sit there and watch her forehead turn bright red underneath her hand and the still-wet tendrils of hair that were stuck there.

Iris growled and stood up before advancing on him, shaking the index finger of her free hand at him. "Just who the hell do you think you are, Tom Riddle?" She hissed out, Voldemort thought he detected a little hint of Parseltongue in the hiss. "You can't go around smacking people in the face with doors just because you feel like it. For one, it hurts like hell, and for another, it's severely rude. Didn't your mother ever teach you any sort of manners? Oh wait. She's _dead!_"

He didn't recall the thought even crossing his mind, nor the command leaving his brain but before he knew it, Iris was back on the floor… completely knocked out. Voldemort looked down at his balled and shaking fist, a bit surprised that he hadn't pulled his wand on her. He fought to calm himself, get his anger back under control and move Iris's unconscious form. He looked over at Nagini who was curled up to the right of the door, observing everything in quiet. "What now?" He asked her.

Nagini tapped her chin with the tip of her tail thoughtfully. "Well… you could always pick her up and move her somewhere else so that I can get in the bathroom."

Voldemort glared at the snake. "And how do you propose I do that? She's dead weight."

Nagini moved her head in a small circle, her version of rolling her eyes. "You're a _wizard_. You can use magic."

Feeling supremely stupid, Voldemort pulled out his wand and pointed it at Iris. "Locomotor Iris." He intoned with a small flick. Iris rose a few inches above the ground and hovered there. Using his wand to guide her along, he moved her from the bathroom and down the hall back to his bedroom. Another flick of the wrist and the door to the bedroom shot open and Iris floated gently inside. Now he was faced with a different problem. Where to put the girl? The obvious choice was the bed, but he didn't want her in the bed, she'd stink up the sheets with her overly feminine hair products and perfume and what-not. _Ew... I don't understand the allure of floral scents at all. And she reeks of roses._ So, Voldemort made a short tour around the room with his floating companion. There was a large armchair by the fire, his desk chair, the floor or the desk itself. _Armchair, or desk chair or floor…_ he thought rubbing his chin thoughtfully with his wand-free hand. _Well, if she woke up on the floor she'd probably be very angry. That doesn't benefit me at all. She'll already be furious that I knocked her out. Still can't believe I did that. I knocked her _OUT!_ Anyway, hurm, the desk chair really isn't ideal, too narrow and it's mine anyway._ He cast a glance at the armchair, his last option. _It is my favorite chair… _On the verge of deciding against the armchair and settling for the floor, Iris decided to make some random grunting noise, alerting Voldemort to her impending return to consciousness. Quickly, Voldemort flicked his wand and Iris shot into the armchair in the proper sitting position no less. _Well, considering that was just a vagrant thought, I'm impressed with my exceedingly awesome magical prowess. Things like that remind me why I'm the Dark Lord Voldemort and not Tom Riddle. Let's see Dumbledore pull that move off._ Voldemort's inner monologue was cut short as Iris opened her eyes.

"What happened?" She asked, blinking uncertainly at Voldemort. "Last thing I remember I got smacked in the face with the bathroom door."

_Thank Merlin there's such thing as amnesia._ Voldemort thought with triumph. "Oh yes, Avery was letting you out of the bathroom and you were standing too close to the door and he smacked you with it and thusly knocked you unconscious." He quickly lied, allowing a small smile of amusement to run across his features briefly. "Don't worry, though, I made sure Avery was taken care of and that you were transported here."

Iris raised an eyebrow and placed her chin in her palm. "Oh really?" She said bluntly, obviously not believing him.

"Yes. Really."

She straightened herself in her chair and rubbed her chin, "Then can you explain the reason why my jaw feels like some gave it a spectacular uppercut, and my _face_ feels like it was rammed by a door?" Voldemort felt whatever color was in his face drain away completely. Did she lie about the amnesia? He chose not to answer and to just see how this played out. She stood and swayed, but caught herself on the chair before she fell back into it. "Eh, Tommy?" She asked. When he still remained tactfully silent, she started walking towards him. "Because I think you do."

Voldemort met her hard blue eyes with his own flaming scarlet ones and said bluntly. "I've no idea what you're talking about."

Iris sighed and stopped her advance. "Look, Tom. I remember everything. I wasn't _that_ far gone. Sheesh. Can't even tell the truth and apologize anymore. What _have_ you become?" Iris side stepped around Voldemort and went to the bed where she fell onto her stomach. She gathered a pillow under her head and sighed. "So, are you going to kill me or not?"

"Well, yes, I sent Bella… Wait. What?" Voldemort was shocked. He hadn't anticipated that question. He'd anticipated her asking about clothes, real clothes, because bath robes don't count or some nonsense like that. He hadn't really even considered the option of killing her yet. The thought had briefly crossed his mind when she'd mentioned his mother, but he hadn't acted on it.

Iris rolled over and stared up at the ceiling, "Are you. Going to. Kill me. Or not?" She repeated slowly and carefully for him. "You know I hate repeating myself. Don't make me do it again."

Voldemort looked at her, spread eagle on his bed, completely ready to hear about her impending doom. He sighed and crossed the room to his desk to bide time. He shuffled papers around and straightened his square inkwell so that it lay parallel with the edge of the desk before replying with a sigh. "I haven't decided yet."

Iris humphed skeptically, "You have. You just won't admit to it. Also, you want something from me. I don't know what, but it's most likely some form of information." She paused and looked over at him, her eyes and voice defiant. "You won't get anything from me, I can promise you that."

Voldemort chuckled. "Who said I wanted anything from you other than to reconnect with an old flame?"

Iris looked back up at the ceiling. "Bullshit. I'm not stupid, Tom. I know how these things work. You'll make my cage as comfortable as you can just short of letting me go, you'll try to get close to me, earn my trust or love or whatever, and then you'll ask me for information and since I feel more comfortable around you and you've managed to earn whatever it is you're hoping to, I'll give you the information." She snickered wickedly and continued on. "But I've got a news flash for you Walter Cronkite… you're going to fail."**(A/N: Anyone catch the reference?)**

Voldemort sighed. _This is going to be harder than I thought…._ He walked over the bed and lay down next to her, folding his hands over his stomach and being extremely careful not to touch her. It felt odd lying in the same bed with another person, he didn't much care for it. "Iris." He started, staring up at the ceiling. "I'm not trying to do anything. Honest. I just want to get to know you again." He looked over at her to find her looking back, the hard edge to her eyes softened slightly. He gulped and prepared himself for the next sentence. It had to be convincing. "I just…" He paused again, psyching himself up for it. "I just never really realized how much I missed you until I saw you again." _Somebody gag me. Please. That was sickening. I can't believe I just said that! It had better pay off. Iris, you better respond correctly to that! Ugh. Please, just end the misery and tell me that you believed that bullshit lie. _He thought furiously in the following silence.

Iris smiled gently at him. "You really mean it?" She whispered.

Voldemort nodded his head. "Of course I do." _Please. Make it stop. Somebody curse me or something. I can't believe she's falling for this, I'm in inner turmoil here and she's over there in happy estrogen land. Great. I'm so screwed. So screwed. Such a lie. She's going to see straight thr—_

Voldemort's thoughts were interrupted by Iris flinging her arms around him and squeezing him tightly. "I missed you, too, Tom!"

_Oh great. She believed it. Now what? _Voldemort thought as he awkwardly patted Iris's back. Luckily, before things got even more awkward and he had a chance to lie and make himself disgusted with himself even more Bellatrix burst into the room laden with boxes and boxes of merchandise.

"A little help, please, my Lord?" Bella asked her voice muffled through the boxes that obscured her face from view.

**Author's Log: Ok, so I hope y'all enjoyed it. The end got fluffy because, well, Valentine's Day happened and I was feeling more fluffy than normal. But I feel like Voldemort's inner self was a good choice. After all, the Dark Lord does not usually dabble in fluff. Therefore he hates it. But if it gets him what he wants, then that's all good. :D YEAH!**

**So, review, favorite, alert. Don't much care which (but reviews are always tons of fun and you can let me know if you caught the reference I made and pointed out). But have a nice day! Roll Tide!**

**Your obediant author, (Watched Phantom recently. Love the music, hate the actors. Michael Crawford and Colm Wilkinson and Sarah Brightman for the win!)**

**~Danbamina**


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